


It's All How You Define It

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hogwarts Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-15
Updated: 2007-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: When Ron realizes that what he's feeling for Harry goes far beyond simple friendship, he has to decide whether he's willing to risk it all for what he wants.





	It's All How You Define It

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

This is a special little fic written for [](http://roonil-wazlib80.livejournal.com/profile)[**roonil_wazlib80**](http://roonil-wazlib80.livejournal.com/). A few months ago she requested a harry/ron story from me. She asked for _a qudditch celebration that leads to something more_ and something fluff-ish but with a bit of angst. I really enjoyed writing this story so I hope Lee, and everyone else, can enjoy it just as much.

  **Beta:** All credit goes to [](http://nefyr.livejournal.com/profile)[**nefyr**](http://nefyr.livejournal.com/) who knows how amazing I think he is. ♥

* * *

“That was brilliant, mate!” Ron yells, throwing his arm around Harry’s shoulder as they enter the changing room, the only two players still in gear. The only two players even left. The rest of the team already showered and cleaned up, long since retreating to the common room for a celebration party that was sure to turn rowdy.

 

Harry grins, euphoria clearly still bubbling up inside him.

 

“You were pretty great yourself. That save against Pucey was brilliant. Did you see his face?”

 

“What can I say, I’m good,” Ron replies, shucking off his quidditch pads and tossing them on the floor, making a rather haphazard pile. He isn’t about to tell Harry that his spectacular save was actually purely accidental. He had been so preoccupied with watching Harry fly he hadn’t even realized that Pucey was on his end of the pitch until he’d noticed that the Slytherin stands had suddenly been overcome with an unusual amount of noise and cheering. At the time, he’d been sure that his blunder would cost them the match, but Pucey had obviously underestimated Ron and overshot the goal, allowing Ron to make a fairly clean save at the very last second.

 

“Yeah, sure, Ron. Weasley is our King!.” Harry teases, playfully thumping Ron on the arm as he makes his way over to his own locker, pulling off layers of clothing in the process.

 

“Ugh, I hate the way these things always stick to you!” Harry yells, struggling to remove his sweat soaked shirt, struggling to pull the clinging garment away from his own body and over his head. Ron stares as Harry pulls it over his head, completely mussing up Harry’s hair even further, making it stand up at odd angles and leaving his glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. It doesn’t take Ron long to realize that he is staring at the wrong part of Harry, quickly recognizing that Harry’s preoccupation with removing his quidditch gear has put him in a ideal position for Ron to stare at his half naked chest without being noticed. The perfect amount of time to watch the tiny droplets of sweat drip down Harry’s chest; long enough to notice that the dark trail of hair leading down from his belly button and just peeking out of the top of his pants is beginning to curl as it dries.

“Fuck.” Ron exclaims, suddenly realizing that the heat pooling in his stomach has nothing to do with the excess excitement from winning the quidditch match and everything to do with his half-naked best mate standing right in front of him.

 

“Huh? What’s wrong, Ron?” Worry was immediately evident in Harry’s voice.

 

Ron stares at Harry, taking in the quiet confusion on his face as he stands there in entirely too little clothing, which does nothing to help Ron’s current predicament; overcome by a heady sense of confusion and arousal.

 

“Nothing, mate, just couldn’t get my pants off.” Ron blushes, hoping Harry believes his pathetic excuse. It’s partly true anyway, Ron rationalizes. His pants are clinging to his long legs, heavy with sweat and just beginning to dry, making it exceedingly difficult to remove the now constricting garment.

 

“That all?” Harry asks, as if he has no idea just how awkward and dangerous this situation feels to Ron.

 

Harry turns, taking a few steps to close the distance between them.

 

“What’re you doing?” Ron asks, voice barely above a whisper, as Harry walks over to him, placing his hands low on Ron’s hips. Harry’s calloused thumbs are pressing right into the skin above Ron’s hipbones. His fingers feel cold and rough to Ron’s flushed skin. As Harry tries to attempt to help Ron remove the offending garments, Ron thinks this is either the best or worst idea that Harry has ever had.

 

“You’ve got to loosen the ties more, Ron.” Harry says all this perfectly rationally, and Ron is sure that there is no way Harry can have any idea what kind of effect his words, his physical presence, are having on Ron’s treacherous body.

 

Ron feels almost sure he can’t breathe now, standing completely immobile as he watches Harry’s fingers working deftly to untie the laces of his trousers. Once done thoroughly unlacing Ron’s trousers, Harry places his fingers underneath the top of the waistband just far enough to get a firm grip and begins to tug them all the way off Ron’s body. For a horrifying moment during which Harry’s hands come precariously close to his cock, Ron is sure that Harry will discover his increasing arousal, but Harry is too concentrated on tugging down the offending material, completely fixated on watching it slide over Ron’s slim hips and down his freckled thighs.

 

By the time Harry has finished, Ron is painfully hard and can do nothing but concentrate on trying to remember how to breathe, on trying to remember that if he can’t keep himself under control he could very well do something monumentally stupid, something that might never be forgotten or ignored.

 

Harry chooses that moment to look up at Ron, kneeling at his feet with a subtle flush to his cheeks that Ron tries not to imagine has anything to do with his current position.

 

Harry swallows, and Ron is transfixed by the movement of his Adam’s apple and the rise and fall of his chest.

 

Harry rises awkwardly, fidgeting nervously with his glasses.

 

“Thanks, mate,” Ron manages to choke out.

 

Harry nods, obviously unable to speak, and Ron feels a tiny bit of relief that Harry seems just as affected by all this – whatever the hell _this_ might be.

 

Harry is speaking and all Ron can do is nod in response. He knows he only managed to catch the second half of Harry’s sentence but finds that he doesn’t really care. He knows it has something to do with a shower.

 

The point of Harry’s speech becomes clear when Ron watches him start to walk away.

 

Harry looks at Ron once more before turning around and removing his boxers and glasses and grabbing his towel off the edge of the bench.

 

He watches as Harry turns the spray on, watches as the room quickly fills with steam, and watches helplessly as Harry steps under the spray of water. Ron sucks in a breath and pulls away his hand from his crotch as though he was being burned, horrified at the risky and un-loyal path his very own hand had been making.

 

But he can’t stop watching. He can’t take his eyes away from Harry, whose eyes are tightly shut as the water pounds onto his head, running down his body as though chasing something away. As Harry grabs the soap and begins to lather up, he runs his hands across his chest and over his abdomen and Ron finally turns away, his breathing now increasingly shallow.

 

Ron isn’t sure if he would rather disappear and pretend that nothing has happened, or run headfirst into the showers and get an even closer look at Harry. All he knows is that the first isn’t an option because without even consciously making the decision, he has already completely undressed and is making his way into the showers. He falls into his natural routine surprisingly easy, turning on the showerhead across from Harry and standing under the onslaught of hot water, willing it to wash away his arousal; willing it to wash away the signs of his body betraying his mind.

 

As Ron begins to wash away the dirt and grime from the game he attempts to clear his mind, tries to force away all the thoughts of a naked, wet Harry mere inches away from him out of his brain and instead focuses on the methodical job of getting himself clean. With careful precision he washes himself, keeping his eyes closed the entire time, too afraid that if he doesn’t he’ll slip up and be caught staring.

 

As he finishes rinsing off the last of the suds he dares to open his eyes, knowing full well that he heard Harry turn off his own water moments before and hoping that he’s at least started dressing by now. Except when Ron opens his eyes it isn’t to an empty shower, it’s to see Harry standing there soaking wet with his cock fully erect and nestled in tightly curled black hairs. It’s to see Harry’s lip between his teeth and his eyes riveted to Ron’s own cock, still half erect and nestled in his own mass of dark red hairs. More importantly though, he realizes that he’s not the only one having inappropriate thoughts about his naked best mate. It’s clear from Harry’s staring, and state of arousal, that he is equally affected by Ron. Though as his fear of being discovered and shunned lessens, a whole near fear sets in as Ron realizes that he wants to kiss Harry, wants to suck him and fuck him and damn well anything else Harry might let him.

 

For several moments neither boy moves, neither makes a sound. They simply stand in the showers naked and wet. Ron notices that Harry’s shoulders have started to shake lightly from the cold air and he knows they can’t stand here much longer. One of them is going to have to say something, do something, and as far as Ron can tell it might just have to be him.

 

Knowing that words will never be his strong suit, Ron moves towards Harry. He can see Harry tense up, watching as his shoulders hunch forward in a protective gesture that Ron recognizes all too well.

 

In a moment of clarity, Ron’s apprehension slips away. Suddenly it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to have them both naked and standing so close. Except that, well, he knows it’s a bloody well huge deal. It just doesn’t seem scary anymore. Though seeing Harry nervous, seeing Harry worry about how to act in front of Ron, that’s what scares him. He thinks that maybe it’s not so much about being two blokes, or being best mates, or maybe even fucking. It’s just about them, about them always being Harry and Ron.

 

“S’ok,” Ron says, stretching his arms out to pull Harry towards him, pressing their bodies close together and relishing the way Harry’s body fits perfectly into his.

 

Harry wraps his arms around Ron, holding him tight and pressing his face into the moist skin of his shoulder.

 

They don’t say anything at first; they just stand there hugging.

 

Ron presses a light kiss to the top of Harry’s head, threading his fingers through the dripping mess of Harry’s hair. His fingers trace small circular patterns at the base of Harry’s neck and Ron feels his cock getting harder as he realizes that he’s touching a place that most people will never get a change to touch.

 

Impulsively, Ron tightens his hold on Harry, causing them both to groan as their cocks are squeezed between them; just enough pressure to delight but not nearly enough to satisfy.

Ron is so preoccupied with the thought of his cock so close to Harry’s that it takes a moment for him to realize that Harry is kissing his chest, making a small path across his collar bone. Delightful as it is, it’s not the place Ron wants Harry’s lips. He releases his hold on Harry to grasp his face lightly and tilts his head up, leaving him at the perfect angle for Ron to kiss. They groan loudly as their mouths come together and their hands scramble to rub and touch and pet every inch of skin they can reach.

 

Harry is deliciously responsive, and Ron delights in the small noises of appreciation he makes as Ron sucks Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth, biting lightly and worrying it between his teeth.

 

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, lifting his left leg around Ron.

 

Taking advantage of Harry’s shift in position, Ron places his hands on Harry’s arse, pulling him closer so that their cocks are at a better angle to rub against each other. Harry breaks away, breathing erratically, and places his forehead against Ron’s chest. He reaches down, using both hands to hold their cocks together. Ron continues to pull Harry against him, but no matter how good it feels he knows the angle is all wrong and that Harry’s legs will start to hurt soon from standing on his toes to match Ron’s height for so long.

 

Ron pulls away suddenly, leaving Harry to stare at him with a confused expression on his face. He wastes no time in dragging Harry with him over to the lockers and grabbing his towel, then laying it on the floor. Ron moves to lie down, pulling Harry with him to lie on top of his body.

“Perfect,” Ron whispers, as their bodies align perfectly with no height differences or weird angles to contend with. The floor is incredibly hard, but with Harry laying naked on top of him, rocking back and forth as their cocks slide together in and out of Harry’s firm hands, Ron doesn’t give a fuck what he’s laying on.

As Ron lays there, watching the concentration on Harry’s face as he ruts and wanks them both, he is overcome with the sudden urge to taste Harry, wanting desperately to make him moan and beg and feel as he comes in Ron’s mouth. Deciding that there’s no time to learn like the present, he switches their positions, quickly crawling down Harry’s body until his face is flush with Harry’s cock.

 

Harry seems to realize immediately what Ron has in mind. “You don’t have to,” he tells him, though Ron can tell from his intake of breath that he wants him too.

 

“You overestimate me, Harry. I’m a selfish guy. I’m doing this entirely for myself.”

 

Ron isn’t sure where his sudden confidence and courage have come from, and he wonders briefly if it isn’t just that things have always been easier with Harry; that taking care of Harry have always just seemed second nature to him. Without pausing for too much more thought, he leans down and swallows as much of Harry’s cock as he can fit in his mouth.

 

Harry moans, tiny curse words and praises slipping from his mouth as Ron’s head bobs up and down his cock; he makes broad licks to the underside and short pauses to tease the tip as he just barely swirls his tongue into the slit of skin. It doesn’t take long before Harry’s hands are fisting tightly in Ron’s hair, and Ron can tell that Harry is struggling not to thrust himself all the way down his throat.

 

Ron wants Harry to come though, wants him to lose control. Without removing his mouth, he brings his left up to cup Harry’s balls, rolling them firmly between his hands as he sucks Harry down particularly deep. That’s all it takes before Harry is arching his back, making a loud moaning noise and holding onto Ron’s head as though he were his anchor. Once Harry has relaxed, Ron releases him from his mouth, kissing his softening cock once more before crawling back up Harry’s body and kissing him hungrily.

 

Realizing that he has just brought Harry such intense pleasure only fuels Ron’s arousal further, and he can’t stop himself from rubbing his cock against Harry’s thigh as they kiss greedily. Harry’s hands grasp Ron’s arse, his fingers rubbing and gripping tightly, encouraging Ron to thrust against Harry’s body faster.

 

Harry breaks off from kissing Ron to whisper in his ear, “I could do you too, you know. If you want.”

 

“Yes,” Ron says, not even needing to think about it.

 

Grinning up at Ron, Harry once again reverses their positions, leaving Ron lying flat on his back.

 

As Harry crawls down Ron’s body, his mouth poised just above Ron’s cock, he doesn’t know how Harry had managed to last so long. Watching as Harry’s head descends on him, swallowing his cock, feeling a warm mouth surrounding him as a strong tongue works the underside of his cock, Ron is sure he is going to lose it any second. Ron shuts his eyes tightly and lays his head on the ground, unable to watch Harry’s head of black hair bob up and down. He wants to last as long as possible, and the sight of Harry’s mouth stretched around his aching cock is far too much.

 

Despite his attempts to last longer, it only takes a minute of Harry’s mouth on him before Ron’s stomach tightens and his toes curl, before he grunts and unwittingly thrusts down Harry’s throat. Harry pulls back just slightly, holding Ron’s hips down as he comes.

 

“Fuck, I think you’ve killed me, Harry.”

 

Ron throws his arm over his eyes as his chest heaves up and down, completely out of breath.

 

Harry laughs, nipping at Ron’s thigh in response then crawling back up towards Ron’s face. He kisses him lightly before plopping down on top of Ron.

 

“Oi, Harry. You‘re a bit heavy, you know that.”

 

“But you’re so much softer than the ground.” Harry runs his hands up and down Ron’s side, scraping the skin lightly with his nails. “Mmm, much warmer too.”

 

Harry can’t see his face, but Ron smiles at him anyway.

 

“Come on, mate,” Ron says softly, poking Harry lightly in the sides. “We’ve got to clean ourselves up again and head back to the castle before too many people notice we‘re missing and someone comes looking for us.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry mutters unhappily, as Ron helps him to his feet.

 

They dress silently, taking far longer than necessary and using every feeble excuse to touch the other.

 

An hour ago Ron would have sworn that this _thing_ , though he still isn’t sure exactly what to call it, would have the power to change everything if he acted upon it. As he looks at Harry struggling to get his shirt over his head without losing his glasses though, he realizes that nothing has changed, not really.

 

Harry has always been the most important person in the world to him. The only difference now is that he’s not too scared to admit it.


End file.
